


Wheeling Footgun

by ShebaRen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dating, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop, Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 07:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebaRen/pseuds/ShebaRen
Summary: For a change, it’s not Stiles who is flailing around in this one.Or: Peter takes Stiles on a date.





	Wheeling Footgun

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta read. Also, I’m not a pro skater. Like, I’m Peter’s skill level of skating in here, so almost everything regarding skating is pulled out of my ass or (probably badly) researched shit. I’m just someone who thinks people that skate are unbearably cool. (More notes on my “research” in the end notes! And with research I mean youtube vids of cool people skating.) Also, please ignore everything I wrote about that skating hall. I pictured it like an ice skating ring at first and realized my mistake too late.

Peter doesn’t like Scott. He doesn’t make a secret out of it, preferring to avoid the alpha and keep their interaction to a minimum. By unspoken agreement Scott has done the same, not feeling particularly fond of the older werewolf after all what he has done to him and his friends.

 

But that has been over three years ago and things have changed since then. Mostly, Peter just tries to keep his more stinging barbs to himself when Scott is around, and Scott tries to ignore him when they are in the same room. Which is more often than he would like, now that Peter and Stiles are together, but Peter endures. Being with Stiles, Peter has learned, is worth more than he can name.

 

He had known even then, in that parking lot, that Stiles was something special. But he could have never imagined it would be like this. Being with Stiles just felt right. Easy, like pieces slotting together. 

 

When Peter had realized for the first time that this thing between them, these feelings in his chest, were more than just attraction, he had been shaken. Stiles was still young - going to college, fresh out of school - and the last few years had not been easy what with all the supernatural shitshows going through the town. Surely the young man would want to have a chance at being normal? 

 

And Peter was quite a bit older. He knew that Stiles had no problem with that as it was, but being friends with benefits was still something else than being officially together.

 

It had been their first big fight. Peter, trying to distance himself from his feelings and Stiles at the same time. Stiles had confronted him, dragged the reason out of Peter and disabused him of these notions fast enough. There was nothing at all normal about their lives, he’d said.

 

Peter was werewolf from birth, six years in a coma, burned to death, risen from the grave. Stiles, a Spark, almost died more times than he can count, possessed by a Nogitsune. Both of them had killed. 

 

Stiles couldn’t have escaped the memories even if he wanted to - the scars on his body were more than enough to remind him every time he looked at himself. And he didn’t want to escape them, was the most important part. He wanted to be with Peter. 

 

Which is the reason Peter corners Scott  after one of their pack meetings. 

 

“A date?” Scott asked with a frown.

 

“Yes Scott. I would have thought you are familiar with the term.” Peter says impatiently.

 

“Why would you - no, nevermind. With Stiles?” Somehow Scott seems to be completely baffled by the  idea.

 

Peter grits his teeth. “Who else should I go on a date with, please? Yes, I want to take Stiles on a date. I would have thought you may know a location, as Stiles is your best friend since kindergarden.”

 

Scott looks as if the mere thought of Peter and Stiles on a date makes his fangs itch. But he doesn’t threaten Peter and after a moment he cocks his head, thinking. Seems as if Peter wasn’t the only one who got a talking to by Stiles, to make nice with each other. Not that he would have been impressed much by a show of fangs - he has been a werewolf since before Scott has been born. But he would have hated to lose another good shirt due to blood stains.

 

At least, whatever overly complicated  thought process had gone through Scott’s head has been completed and he deigns Peter with an actual answer.

 

“Take him to the skating hall”, Scott says, pleased with himself, “he’ll like that.” He’s almost bouncing on his toes  a pleased grin on his face. Stiles would have made a comparison to an overgrown puppy, but - actually, no, overgrown puppy was right. Peter only raises his brows doubtfully, but thanks him nonetheless. He wasn’t raised by actual wolves, thank you.

 

Faintly Peter remembers the skating hall; Hadn’t Boyd worked there? No, that was the ice-skating rink. The first thing he did when he got home, was research. 

 

The skating hall, aptly named “Skater Palace”, was on the border of town, near the industrial area and even included an outside area. Their homepage looked nice enough - they were mostly family oriented, with birthday party specials and group discounts. He vaguely remembers Laura complaining that she wanted her birthday party to be there when she was twelve. She got the regular garden party kind and had not been happy.

 

Peter ignores the something in his chest twisting. He carefully directs his thoughts back to the issue at hand and contemplates if taking Stiles to skate is really the best course of action.

While Peter supposes that skating is something teenagers might find cool, he isn’t really convinced. He loves Stiles, but the boy  _ is _ quite accident-prone.

 

But Scott had been earnest in his suggestion. And where Peter is petty, Scott is not. He wouldn’t want to ruin Stiles day just to make Peter look bad.

 

Peter sighs. To the skating hall it is then.

 

\---

 

Stiles had perked right up, when he heard the location Peter was taking him. “Wow, I haven’t been there since the summer before Scott became a werewolf!”  

 

He was giddy with excitement and had been poking and prodding Peter the entire time until the older Werewolf had relented and and finally agreed to drive them there already.  

 

“My mom used to take me almost every saturday when I was smaller.”, Stiles explains while Peter steers the wheel of his car through the streets, “It was our thing when Dad had to work weekends. On his free weekends, Mom and Dad liked to sleep in and I joined them in their big bed as soon as I woke up. Probably woke them up that way most of the time .” He chuckles self deprecatingly.

 

Peter smiles. Stiles looks a bit sad, but the memories are happy and he smells like sunshine after a rainfall in the summer. 

 

“My parents weren’t much home at all, but on the weekends we weren’t allowed to disturb them  at all before eleven; Talia and I would sneak out and play near the Nemeton all morning long.” Peter tells him. He likes to think back to these days, where Talia was still willing to hang out with a brother five years younger than her. When she was a teenager, she was more often than not sneaking out on the weekends, meeting boyfriends, and had no patience for Peter anymore.

 

“Sometimes I wonder how it would been, to have siblings. I think mom and dad wanted more, but then the illness got in the way…” Stiles says, and they continue to swap stories about their childhood the entire way to the rink, little tidbits about their past. 

 

When they arrive at the skate hall, Peter intercepts Stiles before he can step away from the car. He crowds him against the car, until there’s no space between them left. There’s a smile on Stiles’ lips when he leans in for a kiss. 

 

His hands settle on the familiar slope of the younger man’s hips and he closes his eyes to enjoy the way their lips slide against each other, the faint trace of strawberry he can taste on his tongue as Stiles decides to deepen the kiss. Stiles hands have wound around his shoulder, one hand cradling Peters neck. It’s telling that his wolf isn’t even reacting to the gesture.

 

But this is not about making out against the car in a parking slot, so he draws back a bit, taking Stiles hand instead and entwines their fingers. This is about spending a fun day doing something they enjoy.

 

He steals another small kiss, grinning when Stiles laughs at him. “Come on.”, Stiles says. He takes his skates and protective gear out of the trunk and leads the way to the entrance. Peter’s content to follow along. 

 

The building is actually pretty nondescript in the way that most sport halls are; A square block of  a building, only identifiable by the information plate next to the glass door. He can’t see the outdoor area from the parking slot, but he guesses that it it’s probably behind the building.

 

They enter through the door. The entrance hall is spacious, there are some benches and the entire wand on the left is covered in pictures of people skating. On their right is the counter, manned by a bored looking teenager with long, blonde hair spilling out under the beanie she’s wearing. She’s browsing something on her phone, but looks up when she hears the door.

 

“Hi, welcome to Skaters Palace. May I help you with anything?”, she greets them with a smile.

 

“Hello.”, Peter says, “Two adults, and a pair of skates for me, please.”

 

She nods, before asking Stiles if he’s got his own skates. As she’s asking, Peter can see her do a double take. Squinting her eyes at his boyfriend, she blushes when she sees Peter’s raised eyebrows.

 

“Uhh, I’m sorry but- Do I know you? You seem familiar…”, she quickly asks Stiles, trying and failing to hide her embarrassment at being caught out staring.

 

Stiles smiles politely though it’s clear he has no idea who she is. “Well, I used to come here a lot. Haven’t been by for a long time though.”

 

She nods, still looking embarrassed. “That must be it. What shoe size do you need?”, she asks Peter and hurries off to get him a pair of skates and protective gear. She also hands him a helmet when she returns.

 

“I don’t think I will be needing a helmet.”, he tries to tell her, but she won’t have any of his arguments. 

 

“Sorry, it’s regulation. No skating without a helmet.” She is entirely too cheerful to be sincere in her apology. Peter scowls at the ungainly piece of plastic and styrofoam she’s holding out.

 

Stiles is laughing at him. “Now you know why I had to lug around my entire equipment. So I don’t have to wear smelly headwear that has been used by who knows who.”

 

That’s… not something Peter has thought about at all. He makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and has to restrain himself from recoiling as he’s taking the offending piece of headwear.

 

Well. Needs must and all that.

 

After he has paid, Stiles shows him to the locker room, where they can change into their skates and protective gear. He’s grinning the entire time, talking about the memories he has of coming here with his mother. Peter can’t do anything but smile softly at his enthusiasm - it’s automatic. Stiles is happy and there’s nothing Peter can do but be happy with him.

 

Peter has his skates and elbow and hand protectors on, but he’s still struggling with himself to put the helmet on. It reeks of other people and disinfectant; Sweat and anxiety and exhilaration all mixed together in an disgusting mix of smells. He can ignore the skates, once they’re on his feet. But the helmet is on his head. Too close to his nose. He inhales the fumes the helmet gives off with every breath he takes.

 

Peter scowls. Stiles, seeing his face, laughs at him. “Come here”, he says with a fond tone and takes the helmet out of his hands. He takes his own and fiddles with the straps a bit, adjusting their length. Crowding close, he plops it on Peter’s head, grinning. “There. I hope that’s less offensive for poor werewolfy noses!”

 

He accentuates his words with a quick peck of his lips on Peter’s nose. Laughing, Peter reels him in for an actual kiss. “Yes, thank you. It’s perfect.”, he says when he releases his boyfriend.

 

And it is. Peter could bathe in Stiles scent. It’s comforting, soothing his need for Pack and closeness in a way that he hasn’t been able to since- since the fire. He loves to lie together with Stiles, just breathing in. Tries to catalogue every different nuance and spike.

 

Stiles is beaming at his words. Finishing with his own protective gear, he stands up.

“Alright. Up, up, I wanna skate!”

 

Standing up with wheels on his feet is… Different, Peter decides. The height difference is a bit disorienting, to be honest, and for the second time today he realizes that this is something he has  _ not _ thought through enough. His lack of preparation would be embarrassing, if he wasn’t busy wheeling his arms as he desperately tries to maintain his balance while his feet are moving without his permission.

 

“Whoa! Easy!” Stiles says with a worried frown, catching Peter’s hand in his own and giving him something to hold on.  

 

“Sorry,” Peter apologizes, “I haven’t been on one of these for years.”

 

Stiles grins. “No, don’t apologize. This is awesome. For once it’s not me that is flailing around!”

 

“Brat,” Peter sowles without heat, but Stiles only pokes his tongue out in response.

 

“Are you okay on your own for a second? I’m gonna stow our things in the locker.” Stiles asks. He waits for Peters nod before he gathers their shoes and the bag he brought his gear in and puts it all away.

 

Peter’s still a bit unsteady, though at least he figures out how not to fall on his ass just standing. The trick is to lean a bit forward - if he straightens up too much, the skates begin to roll forward just through the shift in his centre of gravity. He feels ridiculous proud for having it figured out by himself.

 

Then Stiles is back by his side. 

 

“Okay, ready to go?”, he asks, taking Peter’s hand back in his own.

 

“I’m fine by my own,” Peter protests, but makes no move to untangle himself and if his grip is a bit more firm than would be strictly necessary for just holding hands, then Stiles doesn’t comment on it.

 

Together, they make their way into the big hall. Peter still feels off-kilter. The push and glide of his skates against the smooth floor is unfamiliar and he has to concentrate hard on his balance. He’s glad for Stiles’ hand, because he doesn’t think he could have managed on his own without getting acquainted with the floor.

 

The hall they enter is big, easily the size of a large school gym. It’s split into two areas; The larger area is filled with ramps and obstacles of all kinds with a big pipe on the side. The slightly smaller part is just normal hall floor, perfect for skating in circles. From it leads a large gate to the outside, where Peter can see more obstacles. Benches are lining the walls inside and the entire hall is brightly lit. Music is sounding from speakers.

 

Even though it is early in the day the hall is filled with people. Some are on skates like he and Stiles, though there’s a group of teens who are doing flips and jumps on skateboards.

 

They join the few skater's who are skating lazy rounds around the rink area, doing nothing more but going around in circles. Slowly Peter is getting the hang of it. Occasionally he overbalanced and he has to windmill with his arms to get his balance back. 

 

He vaguely wonders if this is how Stiles feels all the time, with the flailing around, but he's too busy not to trip over his own feet and bask in Stiles beaming laughter to think too much about it.

 

Peter's feeling relatively surer by their fifth circuit, so he's fine with Stiles doing a few laps on his own.

 

"Are you sure?", Stiles asks when Peter tells him so, chewing on his lower lip. He's been unconsciously skating faster a few times now, always catching himself and matching their speed again. 

 

Peter rolls his eyes. "Yes," he drawls with a wry smirk, "remember, not very breakable. I've got this, after all." He gives his helmet a knock and winks.

 

"Yeah, okay, fine." Stiles grins and with a soft hipcheck he takes off. Peter flails again at the unexpected contact and curses. Stiles laughs at him.

  
  


With a few powerful strides Stiles gains considerable speed. Peter rolls to a stop and cautiously lowers himself to one of the benches at the side in order to watch. He marvels at the change to Stiles usual demeanor. He's so fast, Peter would have feared that Stiles would crash into the next best person who wouldn't be fast enough to get out of his way, but instead he's weaving in and out of the other skaters flawlessly. He does a sharp turn to avoid another skater, passing them with a hair's breadth.

 

Every move looks effortless and it’s almost dizzying to watch. Only the intense look of concentration on his face betrays how difficulty it must be not to collide with anyone. After a few rounds though, Stiles slows down. He looks around and it takes a few seconds but then he sees Peter and he skates over.

 

“Everything alright?” he asks. There’s a flush staining his cheeks and his eyes are bright with excitement. Peter drinks the sight in. 

 

“Don’t worry. I just wanted to watch you without bowling anyone over. You looked good,” he says with a small smile. 

 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Stiles says and flushes a shade darker. Peter is both endeared and exasperated at the fact that even after all this time, Stiles still gets self conscious as soon as someone acknowledges one of his many talents.

 

“I want to. You are magnificent.” Before Stiles can do something ridiculous like  _ protest _ , Peter takes Stiles wrist with a soft grip and reels him in so that he’s standing between his legs. He tugs again. With a huff, Stiles acquiesces and bows down for a quick peck on the lips. The small smile he’s sporting betrays his amusement, though. 

 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs when Peter releases him, “I’m not half bad at skating. If you really want to watch, I could show you a few tricks I picked up. That’s at least more interesting than me going in circles.”

 

“Now I’m curious. Alright then, show me what you’ve got.” He expects Stiles to head over to the area filled with ramps, but instead they head outside. A group of teens has staked out part of the smooth concrete area with little colourful cones arranged in three neat rows. Peter has no idea what they are used for. Together they greet the group. If any of them think anything of the age difference between them, they don’t show it. 

 

Peter watches the two girls currently skating through their cone lines. The face he makes must be pretty clear on his bafflement, because Stiles snorts a bit and takes pity on him.

 

“Alright, this is called Freestyle Slalom. See the space between the cones? Every line has different spacing. More space means less chance to touch the cone. Basically, each line has a different difficulty level.” Stiles points and Peter nods. “The girls are doing pretty basic stuff right now, just getting the hang of weaving around the cones on one feet, or crossing over them. There’s a lot more advanced stuff. I hope I can still do it.” He laughs. 

 

“And you did this with you mom?”

 

“She showed me the basics and I took it from there. Too much energy, you know. It was a good outlet.”  

 

Peter hmms. They watch in silence for another minute. When it seems like the girls are getting ready for a break, Stiles fumbles for his phone. He opens his music app and searches for a song, handing it over to Peter as soon as he’s found what he’s wanted. 

 

“Play that when I’m ready, ok?” He gifts him with a grin and a quick peck on the lips in thanks when Peter agrees. Then he wheels back with a silly little wave, makes a fluid little twist and is off to the start of the line. Peter can’t help but admire the view. 

 

Stiles starts off slowly, at the easiest line and with the same “basic” moves the girls did, though his look a lot more fluid than theirs. At the end of the line, he does a quick spin and goes again, this time a lot faster. He begins switching through the lines. The moves get more complicated each turn, ranging from basic to mind boggling. At one point, Stiles moves just so that he’s squatting down while balancing only the foremost wheel of his right skate and raising his left leg up from the ground. Still curving around the cones, of course. 

 

When he comes to a stop, he looks delicious to Peter. All flushed from exertion and beaming in accomplishment. “Okay,” he says a bit out of breath from the exercise, “hit me up with that music, my boo!”

 

“Your wish is my command,” Peter replies dryly and taps play. Stiles waits a few beats, centers himself. Stiles.  _ Centering himself _ . Peter shakes his head in disbelief.

 

And then he starts dancing.

 

It’s a bit sloppy, the transitions choppy and a few cones get kicked from their position by Stiles’ skates. Obviously it’s been too long since he’s done this regularly, but Peter feels hypnotized by the movement of his legs, the way the skates are only a extension of his limbs. Every turn, every step, is controlled and in tune with the beat. Stiles always moves with his entire body, always a flurry of motion. It’s one of his most endearing qualities. But skating…  _ This _ is what gives his every motion, every move, a purpose.

 

Peter couldn’t have torn his gaze way in this moment, even if he wanted to. All too soon, the song reaches its end and Stiles comes to a stop. His chest is heaving from exertion and there’s sweat gathering at his temples. Peter wants to lick it off.

 

The kids are cheering and complimenting Stiles, who grins at them and gives them a dorky thumbs up. His real focus is on Peter though, and like it can read his thoughts his tongue flickers over his lips. 

 

As soon as he’s close enough, Peter reels him in, cautious of his own balance. He doesn’t hesitate, just cradles Stiles face in his hand and licks into his mouth, deep and filthy. Only when his skates threaten to get away from him again does he release him. Ignoring the whoops and whistling of the teens, he smirks at the way Stiles pupils are blown wide.

 

“So,” Stiles says with an air of faux casualness, “that was pretty strenuous activity. I think I’m pretty tired now. Wanna head home?” The fingers playing with the hem of Peter’s henley betray his tone clearly, dipping teasingly under the fabric to caress his skin.

 

“Of course,” Peter purrs. “Wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself.” 

 

The effect is only ruined when he almost falls in his haste to get back to the locker. Peter grumbles a bit, while Stiles is snickering, but he doesn’t let it ruin his good mood. 

 

All in all, it was a pretty good date if he could believe the ecstatic noises Stiles made later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> This is not the fic I wanted to write when I got the idea two years (!) ago. It started with this youtube vid about a [little girl freestyle slalom skating](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfL5CyvSzw8&feature=youtu.be) and snowballed from there.
> 
> I spent a lot of time"researching" for this.   
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zD0lDzhQ6F4) is probably what Stiles looks like doing his program, realistically.   
> And [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSqlhhJzY0A) is what I wanted it to look like.
> 
> An amazing [skating hall](https://darkarkitekter.no/projects/oslo-skatehall) I stumbled over.
> 
> More inspirational inline skating vids I couldn't stop watching. For research purposes, of course.   
> [Freeskate in Shanghai](https://youtu.be/DbH0_xqR26c)  
> [WFSC 2013 Pair Slalom Poland](https://youtu.be/ir6bAfZEn0g)  
> [Shan - Silence in my city (Freeskate)](https://youtu.be/gq88qioKD-8)  
> [Zhang Hao Senior Male Classic Slalom 2017 1st Place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ks5J9qhFbeo)  
> [2013 Shanghai Slalom Open (cute!!)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WQ5JeWIPIE)
> 
> Also [THESE](https://youtu.be/XWCEHFwkHdg) gems!  
> Glow in the dark wheels that freaking spark!!!!!!!!!! If I ever write another skater!Stiles piece, these will feature heavily. Or you know, if you feel inspired to write...


End file.
